That Friday

November 8, Friday.  I was in Cebu City the day that Typhoon Yolanda came.  I was in my sister’s house baby sitting my 7-year old niece.  I had brought my mother from her hill-top house to stay and weather the storm with us.

The morning started out with a light drizzle.  The sky was grey and did not have a hint of what was to come. By mid-morning, the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was blowing hard—enough to bend the bamboo lining my sister’s fence almost halfway to the ground. Every now and then my mother would get up from the book she was reading and pace the floor.   My niece and I kept ourselves busy creating a diorama of a family inside a house out of a shoe box. At one point as the wind howled outside, she exclaimed, “I’m too young to die.” 

I assured her that no such harm will come to her and shifted her attention back to our project.   By lunchtime, the wind had died down and an eerie calm settled around. We had come through with hardly any damage to the house.  But what about the rest?

With electricity and phone line cut off and my celphone battery running on low,  I started texting my siblings and my daughter that we were alright.  With no contact with the outside world, we settled in for the night. I was confident that everything would be put to right the next day. 

We woke up to see a weak sun trying to break through grey clouds.   

Leaves littered the outside and there still was no electricity.  With still no news about the extent of the damage caused by the typhoon, we happily left the house for the airport to pick-up my sister. My niece was happy and relieved that her mother was finally coming home.  My mother was happy with the thought of returning back to her house.  Everything seemed right in our little world.

How very wrong we were.  Upon reaching my mother’s house, her house helpers asked permission to leave.  They live in the northern part of Cebu which was also in the path of the typhoon.  They had received text messages that the roofs of their homes were blown off.  Without hesitation, my mother let them go.  As fate would have it, I had postponed my departure and would be around to keep my mother company.

With electricity restored by late afternoon, we started to receive heart-wrenching news on teevee about the terrible damage caused to life and property.  What made matters even worse was the fact that my mother could not reach any of her brothers or sisters in Leyte.  All communication lines were down.I tried to console my mother by telling her "No news, is good news". 

By Sunday, my mother was able to get sketchy news from some relatives and friends who had managed to return back to Cebu from Ormoc, Leyte. So far, our relatives were alright but extensive damage had been caused to their homes and farms. 

What used to be miles and miles of coconut trees, now just poles sticking up in the air (pic courtesy of RC)

I have since returned back to my own home in Manila.  Everything is exactly as how I left it.  But I feel that I am not the same person.   I am now bothered by the thought that although I have given assistance,  it is not enough. And even if I continue to do so, it will never be enough.

Shining Sign

Dear Lord,

Thank you for allowing a full moon to shine on a clear sky tonight.

I would like to see this as Your sign to comfort  the Filipino people -- especially the victims of Typhoon Yolanda --  as we struggle to find our way out of the darkness of despair.

Please continue to strengthen our hope for a better tomorrow and our belief  that  good will always triumph in the end.

This I ask in the name of Jesus, your Son and our Savior.

Amen.

Back in the Spirit

As kids, my sibs and I never experienced trick or treating.  There were no costumes and knocking at neighbors’ gates for us.  (In any case my strict parents would never have allowed us out of the house in the first place.)

Unlike today, department stores did not outdo themselves with cobwebs and macabre display of frightful masks.  Radio and teevee stations went on with regular broadcasting and nary a mention of Halloween.  No biggie.

Of Trees and Memories

Aratiles or Manzanitas is a fast growing tree, 5 to 10 meters high, with spreading branches. Leaves are hairy, sticky, alternate, distichous, oblong-ovate to broadly oblong-lanceolate, 8 to 13 centimeters long, with toothed margins, pointed apex and inequilateral base, one side rounded and the other acute. Flowers are about 2 centimeters in diameter, white, extra-axillary, solitary or in pairs. Sepals are 5, green, reflexed, lanceolate, about 1 centimeter long. Petals are white, obovate, 1 centimeter long, deciduous and spreading. Fruit is a berry, rounded, about 1.5 centimeter in diameter, red on ripening, smooth, fleshy, sweet and many seeded.  It is a tree that thrives in poor soil, able to tolerate acidic and alkaline conditions and drought. Its seeds are dispersed by birds and fruit bats.

http://www.stuartxchange.com/Aratiles.html

The Aratiles Tree was the subject of my second postcard to my niece, N.  

The Best Medicine

It began with an itchy throat in the morning.  Good thing I brought some lozenges and the irksome bother was gone. Or so I thought. 

By the afternoon, my body felt heavy and my joints were painful.  Oh, Oh.  This was not good. Specially when I was away from home to accompany my mother with her medical check-ups in the States. An early night to catch some sleep should do the trick and by morning I would be as good as new. Or so I thought. I was up every hour because of a nagging cough.

I did not fare well the next day.  The itchy throat was back with a vengeance and gave me a cough that came at the most embarrassing times. Like in the middle of a conversation with my sister, M. 

Before I had my next coughing spell, M had emptied her medicine cabinet of its cold-cough-flu arsenal of quick fix.   

V: Living in the Now

V is the youngest of seven siblings. Many thought she was a miracle baby having been born a little over a year after my mother was ligated. A rarity then as it is now, my mother never tired of telling how a well-known doctor cut off a ligament because he was busy talking instead of focusing on the procedure.

V was always anxious about going to school. On the drive to school, my father would gently have her repeat the following quotation. “I am not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen yesterday and I love today.”

Still Mommy

“Must not worry.”

I found some comfort from repeating this mantra to myself.   

It all started so unceremoniously. A forgotten name, a story repeated more than twice in a short span of time,  a misplaced list.  So easily and lightheartedly brushed aside and attributed as part of the aging process.

There was a debate on whether a medical explanation should be sought.  But we were all in denial. For really, what was the point.  There still is no cure for memory loss. 

And so it was for my mother.  And for us, her children.   We laughed.  We cried.  We moved on as we left matters up to time.

Then that time came and my mother herself realized she needed to face this memory eating monster head-on.   And we, her children, planned with her, stood by her and held her hand as we moved forward.

Moving forward, my mother has recently completed  the necessary medical rounds— tests and scans.

The jury is still out on her case.  In the meantime, I should take in the positive and must not worry. She is still mommy.

---xoxoxox---

While visiting with my sisters, M and V, I had the opportunity to watch our mother cook up meals for us. again  She started to apologize for her forgetfulness and hesitated. She felt she would mess things up.  But these negative thoughts vanished as everything came together so naturally.  A chopping board, a sharp knife, a good pan and her confidence was back. 

She outdid herself with her Sotanghon Pancit (recipe here) , Chicken Asado (recipe here) and Pork Sinigang (recipe here).   She also did a green peppers and beans with ground beef dish.  This was something new and delicious for me. I quickly took notes so I won't forget.  And thought it worth passing on to you.

Mom’s Sauted Green Peppers and Beans with Ground Beef

1/2 k ground beef
3 strips of bacon, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 onion, chopped
1 green pepper, cored and sliced into strips
A handful of green beans (about a cup), string removed and chopped diagonally
Splash of worchestershire, perrins, or soy sauce—whatever you have on hand
Salt and pepper

Place the bacon in a pan and render the oil.  Remove the bacon and set aside. In the bacon oil, saute the garlic and onions then add the beef.  When beef is done, return the bacon and throw in the peppers and beans.  Stir quickly and season with seasoning sauce, salt and pepper.  Remember: Do not overcook or your veggies will be mushy.

Goes very well with steamed rice.

Rainy Days are for…

Weeding out never-to-be used again stuff that has outlived its usefulness from closets, cabinets, drawers, bookshelves and every hoarder’s hiding places in the house.

Lying down to nap

Go through the stack of mail— bank notices, subdivision flyers, bills--  that has piled up over the last month

Lying down to flip through a food magazine

Staring out of the window to see how flooded my garden is.

 

Lying down to watch cable teevee: Anthony Bordain eating his way through L.A., New York, Singapore, Bangkok…..

Going through my music CDs and occasionally join in the singing….. “Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain”….

Positive Confessions

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

It started like any other mentoring Sunday.  The parish scholars, public elementary and high school students, were starting to come into the chapel to once more meet up with their assigned mentors.  The program that morning was to center around the scholars’ need to set goals on how to better their lives.  In a prior meeting, it was agreed that it would be good to have an older scholar share with the rest of the kids her story of what and how she was doing to achieve her dreams. 

So why were tears slowly streaming down my face as I listened to Z, a shy parish college scholar tell her story? 

Forever Daughters, Forever Sisters

The signs were there. The yelping of the dogs as the car parked into the garage. The welcome smiles of our loyal house helpers as we surrendered our bags to them. The strong smell of tsokolate.  Slippers and house dusters laid out and ready.